


Wrong Tone

by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)



Series: Advent Calendar 2016 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Classical Music, Competition, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/Clarisse
Summary: The Chopin Competition is the one event where you can't afford any mistakes. It's not easy to play someone else's music with a soulmate song in your head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First, giant thanks to partofforever for the suggestion of a Chopin Competition AU, and second, once more a big thanks to littwink for being my beta <33

Music is a natural part of life; it’s a whole language of its own. It’s one of the building stones of humanity. There’s the songs played on the radio — a mix of human creations and fated melodies that have become public property, then there’s the songs you hum when distracted and the songs that were lost to time. Most important of all, though, is the soulmate song; the melodies that only you and your soulmate know, a secret shared between strangers.

And then there’s the music made by Chopin.

The International Chopin Competition takes place every five years in Warsaw, Poland and lasts for the duration of 21 days. The competition is open to every pianist representing a professional level of performance, between the ages 16 and 30. To compete, they need to first get accepted, and then pass the Preliminary Round that is held for 11 days, 6 months before the competition. To apply, the competitors need to send in photocopies of their musical studies certificates and two letters of recommendation in support of the application provided by pedagogues or outstanding music personalities, as well as documents certifying their major artistic activities during the last 3 years and a video recording of the repertoire of the Competition’s first stage which showcase the pianist’s handwork, not to mention the right side of their whole figure, filmed with one camera and without cuts during the performance of a piece.

Only 160 candidates makes it to the Preliminary Round, which includes six pieces all played from memory. From there, 80 candidates pass to the Competition.

Harry should be happy that he’s one of the 80 candidates making it to the actual competition, more so that he’s one of the 40 to make it past Stage I — and he _is_ — but actually being there… not only in _Warsaw, Poland_ out of all places, but actually being _there_ , at the Warsaw Philharmonic Concert Hall… he’s a bundle of nerves.

There was one boy — or young man, rather — from the Stage I recitals that really stood out. Tom Riddle’s, who was another competitor from England. Harry couldn't actually remember what he played; he can only remember his soulmate song being louder than usual during the 55 minutes that he sat watching the other. In hindsight, it was strange. He can’t remember the soulmate song ever being that loud before.

He does not have time to think about it; it’s a busy schedule with rehearsing. He had really only gone to Tom’s Stage I recital because they were both English. Solidarity and all that. Not that he had been given the same show of solidarity; Tom had not been in the audience for his own stage I recital.

It’s the day for his Stage II recital now. Harry’s turn isn’t until 17:00, leaving him most of the day to practice. He has memorized the order of the pieces that he’s playing, thankfully; Ballade in A flat major, Polonaise in F sharp minor, and lastly Waltz in E flat major. He can admit to having rather personal reasons behind his choices — his mother loves Chopin’s third Ballade dearly and he wants to honor her, the Polonaise helps him a lot when he feels overwhelmed as he find the melody tragic yet uplifting, and  the Waltz was played during his parents’ wedding.  It’s the Polonaise he’s practicing when his mother finally tells him that it’s time to get changed if he wants to be in the concert hall on time.

He does not remember ever getting changed that fast before, not even for the Stage I recital. Being in Stage II feels more real somehow, but that only added to the pressure put on him. Only 20 competitors are allowed to pass to Stage III, and only half of those make it all the way to the finals. His recital needed to perfect — which is why Harry has never felt more anxious.

* * *

The Ballade and Polonaise are performed flawlessly — at least that’s how Harry feels. He has just started on the Waltz when the soulmate song in his head became overwhelming and he faltered. The silence in the concert hall is eerie, and Harry feels panic setting in as he starts on the Waltz once more. It goes better the second time, at least to begin with, but the mistake is already made.

In his head, the soulmate song is overpowering. He doesn’t notice that he’s no longer playing the Waltz at first; he can’t differ between the music from the piano and the music in his head. It’s first when he notices the movement of Yundi Li, one of the jurors, shaking his head at the performance that Harry stops. He looks blankly at the piano in front of him for a moment, before he stands up.

Harry bows and runs off the stage.

* * *

Hiding away in the hotel room is perhaps childish, but he’s ashamed of himself and close to an anxiety attack. All this practice _for nothing_ , because he can’t differ between Chopin’s Op.18 and his own soulmate song. He doesn’t want to think about what his piano instructor will say, or his parents for that matter. They had both taken leave from work to be there for him, and he fucked it up. He should have practiced more, he should have learnt to tune his soulmate song out, he should have- he should have-

Harry can’t stop crying. There was nothing that could be done now, that’s the harsh truth, and it’s horrible, because if there was at least something he could have done to stop this from happening… but there isn’t, there wasn’t. He has made a fool of himself, and now he will never make it in the music industry. It’s _the_ competition, and he made a mistake, and it will haunt him, and all he can do about it is cry in his hotel room with a _don’t disturb_ sign hanging on the door. It’s probably the only thing keeping his parents from barging in to comfort him, though he doubts they’ll respect it for longer than a hour.

If a hour to himself is all he gets, he has to make the best of it. Harry dries his tears and rubs his eyes. There’s a piano standing in the room as he is — was — a competitor, and it looks both inviting and frightening all at once, but he needs to play the Waltz. He likens it to falling off a horse; the best you can do is get right back up. Of course, the soulmate song went back to its normal volume after he left the concert hall. He wonders if the loudness was a fluke, but he’s not sure the soulmate song can have a fluke.

Actually… his mother had once told him that the song helped recognize your soulmate in two ways. The first, the most romantic and therefore most well known way, is that no one but you and your soulmate knew the song; it doesn’t exist for anyone else unless you share it. The second on the other hand… it had to do with volume, did it not?

Then… but no… Harry pushed the thought away. Instead he got up from the bed on which he had been lying, and walked over to the piano. He could do it. He could play Chopin’s Waltz in E flat major. He has done it countless of times before as he has practiced; this time should not - _will not -_ be a repeat of his recital.

Even if the rest of the world laughs at him for mixing up Chopin and his soulmate song, the knowledge that he can still play it, that he did not spend his entire musical career to lose his talent just when he needed it the most, is all Harry needs. He sits down in front of the piano and caress the keys lovingly. Then he begins playing. His fingers moved smoothly, almost as if dancing over the keys, pushing down just enough for each note to be heard. Harry immerses himself in the Waltz.

There’s a knock on the door. Harry pauses, but it doesn’t come again, so he continues playing. At least until there’s another knock on the door. Can’t they read? He doesn’t want to be disturbed; it wasn't his parents as they had a keycard to his room. When the third knock comes before Harry has started playing again, he sighed and gave up on continuing the Waltz. It’s best to just get it over it.

He’s not sure who he expected on the other side of the door, but when he opens it to reveal Tom Riddle his immediate response was to close it again. Whatever business his fellow Englishman might have with him, he doubts it to be good. They haven’t talked to one another before, and the only reason they might do so now is if Tom had wanted to gloat.

The door handle turns under his hand, and Harry was not quick enough to react before the door slid open. He cursed silently over the lack of automatic locks; he could have avoided this frankly abstract concept of a confrontation with Tom.

“How do you know that melody?” Tom demanded at once, and Harry could do nothing but blink up at him. What…?

“The Waltz?” he asks stupidly. Tom enters the room, and Harry closes the door behind him. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he walks back over to the piano. The soulmate song seems louder again… how odd.

“Not the Waltz, why would I — Nevermind. The other one, the one you started playing instead.”

Harry plays a few notes instead of meeting Tom’s eyes.  
“The only way I can know it.” he answers vaguely. The impatient noise Tom makes forced him to elaborate. “It’s my soulmate song. What does it matter to you?”

Tom suddenly laughs, and Harry has to look up at the almost broken sound. He could hear the words in between the manic laughing; _here of all places_ , it said to him, and, _I didn’t think I had one_. It made him feel unexplainably sad. Not sure what to do, or if he should do anything at all, Harry quietly started playing the melody that lied behind all of their woes.

The soft tone of his - of _their_ \- soulmate song fill the room as Tom’s laughter dies out.

“Apologies.” Tom says at last. Harry doesn’t reply, and Tom takes it as an invitation to join him by the piano. Harry glances at Tom, and the fingers of his left hand leaves the keys. Tom takes up the notes that he’s not playing.

The music that they create together is more beautiful than any Harry had played alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end of anything I've had started or pre-written, haha... I'll just get right onto doing something about that!


End file.
